


Darlin' You Are A Delight

by PlasticEyes



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Beca's adorable, Chloe being Chloe, F/F, adorableness, oneshots, sneezes are love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6019672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlasticEyes/pseuds/PlasticEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's cute."</p><p>But it isn’t.</p><p>“Oh you look pretty hot toda–I mean nice! But not like horny nice I mean like really sexy bUT I actually meant like drop dead gorgeous –…fUCking just…pretty. You’re pretty. Pretty and nice and fiiine and god daMN it! I –Chloe your clothing looks like it was well arranged together and I hope you have a wonderful day you beautiful angel from heaven fUCK!”</p><p>M-m. Nope. Most definitely not cute. At all. Zero percent.</p><p>...</p><p>(In which Beca’s an awkwardly adorable idiot and Chloe’s pretty much in love with this dork)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Motorcycle riding bunny...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneezes are love

_Alright I got this. Just walk, initiate step one and two, and let the instinctual ways of nature take its natural role._

Sucking in a deep breath, I began my stiff walking towards Chloe’s bedroom, traversing up the stairway and through the hallway. _Breath in breath out, I’m not nervous. I’m not! I just…need to breath_ –hand raised I laid it lightly atop the doors knob, allowing a moment to pass before finally (fuck it all) shoving open the door.

“Oh hey Beca!”

And there she was, standing innocently while ruffling through her wardrobe. And there I was, well-planned and practiced plan burned and flushed down the toilet because _for_ _fucks sake_ Chloe Beale was naked. Naked.

As in, no clothing covering that gorgeously sculpted, toned and curved in all the right areas and all the righ-

“…hi,” I greeted after a few seconds, then slumping my head down to stare down at my feet. “I think my innocence just died.”

“Oh my god Beca,” I heard her laugh out. “What are you, a five year old? Get in here and close the door already.”

I listened obediently, head still slumped to the suddenly really interesting looking wooden floor as the door was slammed shut and my forehead was thumped against the doors frame.

“Chloe, I think I’m gonna make you an “I’m naked don’t come in” sign to hang up on your door for your birthday.”

“Very thoughtful of you Becs,” she was still shuffling around, footsteps being heard crossing the floor. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that’ll benefit from that so called gift of yours. You should tots just get me a strap on or something instead. Way more useful right?”

“Well, that would be true if ga-”

Gay.

If she was gay.

Did she just…

_Yeah okay what the fucking hell just happened? Is she gay –okay well obviously she’s gay and oh my god. OMGEE. Holy –what do I say? What should I say!? Okay no. No no this is fine. Just roll with it. Go with the flow. It’s fine, everything’s good. It’s good. It’s –wait…but this is perfect right? I –I can tell her. I can tell her! But –no. No bad idea. I’m too –this is too –I can’t breathe oh my god. This isn’t a good idea and I shouldn’t have drank that milk and maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to just walk out of the room no-_

“Beca?” her voice was right behind me, a warm hand placed on my shoulder. “Hey, you oka-”

“FuuCK!” I threw my hands up into the air and turned to face her now half naked form. “I’M GAY TOO! LET’S GO ON A DATE AND TOTALLY MAKE OUT CUZ’ I’VE TOTALLY BEEN CRUSHING ON YOU SINCE LIKE FOREVER.”

“…”

“…”

“Oh…”

Fuuck…

“Sorry sorry!” I rushed on, twirling on my heel around and hurrying to get out of the room with my sweaty palms. “That was bad. Fuck that was really bad so I’m just kinda’ gonna skedaddle on out of heEEEK-”

“Hold it there Speedy Gonzales.” Of course when she says it like _that_ , grabbing at my wrist and twisting me around to face her clearly, duh I’m gonna pretty much freeze in every movement possible. “Let me speak huh?”

“…yeah…” said simply despite the sporadic thumps of my heart at the moment, not to mention obvious burning blush racing up my neck and face. “Okay.”

Her hand then came up to cup at my jaw, thumb beginning to rub circles at my cheek bone. “Beca,” _Fuck this is gonna be a really painful rejection…_ “I really wasn’t planning on telling you this in only a shirt and underwear…” she chuckled lightly, offering me a sweet smile in which I of course returned with a nervous smirk, literally dying on the inside. “…but…” _Jesus I’ll be eating ice-cream for days…_ “…I…” _Carton after carton after carton whhhyy am I so stuppiii-_

“…like you too. For a like, a really, _really_ long time too.”

My mouth dropped open, and I think I just kinda stood there gaping at her while she just smiled and snickered.

“You gonna say anything?”

Uhhmm…

“C’mon now Becs, take a deep breath now.”

“Uhhhmm…”

“You can do this…”

“Kiss!” I gasped out, not realizing that my breath had been sucked the entire time frame of this conversation. “Do you –would it be –should we –awkward as fuck but –can I-”

“Hush,” her finger stopped me from saying anymore, coming to put it gently over my rambling words. Then she was stepping closer, leaning closer, nose nearly touching with mine. “You, are so adorable,” she whispered, hot breath washing freshly over me.

“Aca-scuse m-” but before I could finish the poorly though out statement, I was being pushed backwards, stumbling gracelessly over the heels of my feet. Back banging hard against the door, she was towering over my shorter frame, fully taking advantage of her height as my hands were pinned above my head, eyes piercing into my thoughts as she stared me down.

“Aca-excused.

“Holy fuck,” I breathed out, darting down to get a glimpse of smirking lips before glancing back up. “Um…you’re pretty close…”

“M-hmm,” she was leaning forward, cueing cardiac arrest that was soon to come. “You’re also _very_ tensed. Nervous?”

I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a deranged animal cough. “No.”

“Really? Ever been kissed by a girl before?”

“…no.”

“Well,” and we were now centimeters apart. “I’ll be happy to be the first.” Millimeters apart, nanom-

Soft and warm and hot and chilled at the same time, our lips were connected and chests burning against each other. My heart was uncontrollably stuttering, sporadic and erratically thumping against its barrier as her tongue was worked into action. Obviously I let her in, and obviously I could’ve fainted from pleasure then and there but I didn’t because fuck everything about this felt so good and so right and –

And.

_And._

I quickly unhooked my hands from her grasp, bringing them down to blindly push her away as my mouth was contorted upwards and back down to let out a tiny “choo”.

A. Fucking. “Choo”.

I sneezed. For Christ’s sake. Who the fuck sneezes in the middle of making out for the first time?!

“I –oh my gosh I’m so sorry Chloe! I swear that wasn’t on purpose and –hey. Hey! Don’t laugh at me woman!”

“I can’t –I can’t Beca!” she was clutching her stomach, kneading over as she cackled on. “Oh my god you’re adorable! Oh gosh I’m crying! You’re just –so –cute!”

“I,” stomping a foot down and crossing my hands over my chest. “Am not cute.”

“You’re pouting right now!,” she wheezed out. “ Beca that’s pretty much the definition of cu-”

“Don’t. Don’t even say it Beale!”

“Beca. Look. I hate to break it to you,” she snickered lightly, apparently now beginning to catch her breath. “But the way I see it, you’re pretty much the sweetest, cutest little bunny I’ve ever seen.”

 _Bunny?_ “Bunny? What the fuck Beale?” Nevertheless, yes, I was blushing. Hard. Like, embarrassingly hard. “I’m pretty much the definition of a badass motorcycle riding bear.”

“Oh ‘cmere you lovable little motorcycle riding bear thing you.” I begrudgingly allowed her to pull me into a half hug, wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling my close to her shoulder. “You, are nothing but a delight. Would you, Beca Mitchell, like to take up the honor to be my girlfriend?”

FuCK YA!

OH GOD YES!

IN YOUR FACE TOM!

OHHHH-HO-HO-HO YEEESSSS!

…

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“Good,” a finger slid under my chin, pulling my gaze upwards to stare into those alluring blue orbs of indefiniteness. “Now, about that date?”

“Oh yeah! Hurry up and get your pants on Beale, totally got the best-est place in mind!”

“Alright alright I’m coming, calm your tits.”

“Gurl,” I put on my most deadpanned expression. “My tits are calm as hell. Now let’s go already!”

She looked at me, then smiled one her sweet little smiles. “Adorable.”

“I am not adoRAB-” but before I could go any further, her lips were on mine again, cutting me off on any further defense. Should I have been offended?

…

Eh.

…

Nah.

…

I am _so_ not cute.


	2. Oh Babe (*literally*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Chloe?”
> 
> “Mama!”
> 
> (In which Chloe is magically transformed into a kid, and Beca’s constantly finding herself on the verge of either puking or going into maternal freak-out-mode.)

No one really noticed it at first.

Early morning, hangovers being felt throughout the entire household, the sweet aroma of coffee wavering in the kitchen –yup, nothing better than a lazy Sunday right? Well, I’d love to say yes to that, but of course, the universe just loves poking fun at my ass now doesn’t it?

“Morning Stace,” I greeted, nodding in her direction as she came strolling into the kitchen. “Anyone else up yet?”

“Mmm…” she yawned, scratching the back of her hair and coming to stand next to me. “Nope.”

“Not even Chlo?”

“M-m. Now how’s that coffee coming?”

“Five more minutes.”

Both groggy as we were, a silence was lapsed for the remaining minutes. Thinking and contemplating of the night before –dancing, drinking, kissing, strangers, metal poles, and blaring music. Not the best to the term “living” life to the fullest, but fun nonetheless. So I’ll count it as a score.

_Beep Beep Beep…_

Coffee completed, two mugs were out in a span of five seconds, poured and mixed and _done_.  We both grabbed our mugs and made our way to the kitchen counts, sliding onto the stools and leaning elbows onto the counter. Blow, sip, blow, _sip…_

“That’s good stuff.”

“Oh yeah.”

_Blow, sip, sip, blow, blow, sip…_

“Pretty wild night huh?”

“Eh, I’ve had wilder.”

“Oh course you have Stace.”

_Sip, blow, sip,sip,sip,sip…_

“Hey Stace?”

“Hm?”

_Sip, sip…_

“I had a pretty weird dream last night.”

“…me too.”

_Sip, sip, sip…_

“It was like, about Chloe. And –and this guy too.”

“What? Were they having sex or something?”

“Eugh Stacie no! Don’t be sick.”

_Sip, sip…_

“…so what was it about then?”

“Ehhh. It was pretty –pretty weird. Chloe was like, a kid or something. Toddler really.”

“…”

“Pretty weird right?”

_Sip…_

“Beca.”

“What?”

“I had that same dream.”

“…”

“…”

“Oh no.”

Oh no indeed since, the dream itself, had been a warning. No, not warning, more like threat/punishment. On Chloe. Which –of course –speak of the devil, the sound of a door slamming open echoed across the walls, soon followed by the pitter-patters of feet coming down the stairs.

“Well was it fake?!”

“The hell am I supposed to know!?”

The steps were coming closer, and both our eyes were then reverted to the kitchen’s opening, waiting in suspense as the steps came nearer and nearer to the entrance.

Pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat…

...

..

..

.

.

“Stace?”

.

.

“Yeah?”

.

.

“Am I on drugs?”

.

.

“Depends.”

.

.

“On what?”

.

.

“Whether or not I’m on drugs.”

.

.

..

..

…

…

So I ended up slipping off my seat, coffee mug however remaining safely intact atop the counter seat. But even as soon as my butt hit the ground, I shot up to my feet, still staring at the paradox in front of my eyes.

 Still Chloe –blue eyes, red hair, smiling dimples. But…short.

Like. Really short.

“Mama!”

 “What tha’ f-oof!”

Oh I don’t know, six or seven maybe? A packaged bundle of utter joy, radiating with just the purest amount of innocence and sunshine –rushing and nearly tripping over her two little pairs of feet. I could only raise my hands up as she collided into my legs, rubbing and nuzzling her face into my pajama pants.

Now. If I were to tell you that I handled the situation with the skill and expertise of the president of the _fucking_ United States himself –then I’d _totally_ be telling the truth...(but at the same time be lying so...)

“Oh my god. Oh mY goD.” I looked up to Stacie, then back at the child who was still hugging my leg, then back up to Stacie again. “Stacie. Stacie help me. Stacie I think I’m gonna –I’m gonna –holy fuck I think I’m gonna’ puke.”

“Don’t…” she was still staring at the current child latched onto my leg. “…just…don’t make any. Sudden. Movements.”

“Stacie I –Stacie I’m gonna’ puke. Get’er off.”

“Mama!”

“OH FUCK I’m gonna puke!”

“Think of the child Beca! Remain calm!”

“She’s Chloe Stacie! She’s-…*gags*… oh my god. Oh my…*gags again*…Stacie get her off!”

“Alright alright just –hold on.”

You probably think I was joking, weren’t you?  Or at least exaggerating to an extreme point. Well, fuck you. Because _oh my fucking god_ , Chloe Beale was a toddler. A toddler. That would pretty much make me into a beautiFUL _FUCKING princESs frog from magical unicycle land RIGHT?!_ Panicked and confused and in a complete state of shock –of course I’m going to go into some sort of panic attack right now!

Stacie slid off her stool, slowly as to not startle the attached child. _Child_ , not grown up, not an adult, not my co-captain, notthathotashellsexyla-

“Chloe?” she asked, now bending down behind the child-version-Chloe-and- _whatthefack_. “Do you know who I am?”

Her grasp on my leg didn’t cease as her head was turned, looking over to face Stacie.

“Who’er you old lady?”

It was thus –the world froze. Time itself, still and quiet. The word, echoing throughout the chasms of both Stacie and my thoughts.

_Old…_

_…old…_

_…old…lady—lady –lady -lady._

Dizzy-gonna-throw-up feeling seemingly washed down the drain, I quickly smacked a hand onto Stacie’s forehead, reminding her of where she was.

“Stace. Snap out of it. Think of the child right?”

“She called me old,” her voice was barely breathed out, eyes widened in disbelief. Honestly, it was hard for me to tell whether or not she was about to cry, or rip apart the poor soul in front of her. “Chloe called me old.”

“She didn’t mean it Stace. You know she didn’t mean it.”

“You’re also weird.”

“Chloe, you’re not helping right now.”

“I’m bored.”

“Hush Chloe.”

…welp. Things could be a lot worse right? This –this is only a small factor to an even larger concept. On one hand, Chloe could’ve been, y’know, like a really small three month baby instead. Or on another setting she could be bawling her eyes out right now instead of remaining in this weirdly calm-for-a-child mood.

“Alrighty then…” I looked between Stacie and toddler Chloe. As if now, Stacie wasn’t exactly emotionally prepped to take care of a child that had dared to call her the “O” word. Now now now _now_ then –here’s the other thing you’re not exactly aware of. The dream, the dream Stacie and I both had. Some guy, cocky as hell, had stated clearly to us that Chloe(the idiot) was like how she was right now because she apparently somehow pissed him off. The only crucial warning he really gave us was that Chloe wasn’t allowed to be seen by anyone but us, and if she was seen –the effect would be detrimentally permanent.

So fuck. Guess things did sort of just get worse.

And no way I’m taking her outside to hide somewhere else or anything. Because…who knows what can happen to her right? There’s so many possibilities and-and…she can trip and crack her head open or run out into the street and get smashed by a car –or –OR –get kidnapped by a gang of nefarious criminals that happened to escape from prison the moment she stepped foot out of myLINEOFVISION…

“Nope.” I quickly reached down and slid my hands under her arms, lifting the giggling mini-Chloe and tucking her close to my chest. “Nope nope nope nope,” said repetitively as I made my way out of the kitchen and away from the still starry eyed Stacie. “Nothing’s happening to you on my watch kid.” Up the stairs in a flash, giving a quiet “hush” to kid-Chloe as I slowly reached for the door knob, twisting it open and peering though.

Sure enough, the giantess still lay fast asleep.

 _Chloe’s room will just have to do the-…_ was hardly though before the door to Jessica’s room was opened, then Legacy’s, then _fuck_ _why is everyone waking up right now?!_

So without really a choice anymore, I quietly slipped into the room, gently creaking the door shut. As silent as I could possibly be, I tiptoed with the caution of a robber –carefully carefully towards the opened closet door. A fairly roomy hideout until this wears off right? I was only a few steps away from triumph until Chloe decides (even as a child she can still piss me off the same way), silence is boring. So she goes ahead and starts grabbing at my hair, yanking hard and pulling me off course.

“Augh –stop it Chlo!” I hissed.

She snorted, face going red at an obvious attempt to appeal to my previous warning of staying quiet.

“Chlo –ow. Ow ow. Chloe stop!” I whispered through clenched teeth.

Then she let out a loud bark of laughter, and I immediately felt my heart drop. “No-o-o-o-o!” she squealed _loudly_. Very loudly. I froze in my movements, turning my head slowly to face the mumbling giant. Breath held in, I waited a good two seconds before continuing my journey, painfully deciding that letting my hair get ripped out was better than having Chloe stay like this eternally.

“Alright Chloe,” I whispered once we were finally in the closet, closing the door behind me and flicking on the lights. “Here’s where we camp out for the day.”

I gently set her down amidst the jungle of clothing. Innocent enough, she gave a quick 360 degree turn before grabbing at one of Amy’s nearby bikinis and beginning to play with it.

…eh, I’ll let it pass.

“Now don’t move,” I made sure to instruct carefully, backing up carefully to the door. “Kapeesh?”

She looked up though, fuck she _looked up –fACk why am I still looking back at her._

Here’s the deal. It’s well known throughout the household –fuck that –pretty much the entire Barden University of the legendary irresistible puppy eyes of Chloe Beale. If she wanted you to get her a snack –bam! Puppy eyes, and one minute later you’re confused as to how you got into the kitchen. If she wanted you to do her Chemistry work –bam! An hour later you’re wondering why you’re doing Chemistry work when you’re not even taking a science credit in the first place. Hell, if she wanted you to rob a bank –bam! A day later, you’re wondering what you’re doing in a jail cell.

So. Imagine the pain I must be going through right now, with a multiplied quadrupled flash of puppy eyes being directed straight in to my soul.

“You’re leaving?”

“…*internal screaming*…”

“Don’ go please…” and there were tears gathering at the edge of her eyes, sniffles being wiped away as she was still watching my every movement.

“Oh um…” _Jeez I just need to get some rations and junk…_ “…of course…not.”

Immediately her vigor was revived, and she sprang up from her criss-crossed position and ran over to me.

“Yay!” she cried, tugging at my hand insistently. “Mama’s staying!”

“Chloe, Chloe I’m not --” but it was back, the dreaded puppy gaze. I clamped my mouth shut, genuinely afraid that I’d make this totally _not at all_ adorable creature bawl her eyes out. “…going to…um…leave.”

“I know!” she grinned again, cocking her head to the side. “You already said that silly!”

I groaned inwards, rolling my eyes on the outside. Stacie will have to handle rations then.

I sat onto the tangle of Amy and my clothing, still hand in hand with her as she began doing what normal six year olds do. Rambling nonsense and playing with almost every single possible thing within an arm’s length. Only a couple of minutes had gone by until –I heard it. The sound of a bed creaking, and the yawn of none other than she-who-must-not-be-named. Chloe also heard it, pausing in her hushed chatting and looking up to me for instructions.

“Okay Chloe,” I whispered to her. “Don’t say a single word. Simple as that. Got it?”

She nodded her head, slapping a hand onto her mouth and peering back up to me. I gave her nod of approval, then slid over and reached out an arm to flick off the light. Then I was back next to Chloe, gently maneuvering my hands around her body until I had a firm grasp on her, lifting her and placing her into my lap. I scooted backwards, all the way until my back was against the wall with the feeling of hanging clothing obscuring my face. _Incognito…_

A few minutes later, the closet door was opened, light streaming in and blinding me for only a moment. I felt Chloe’s arms tighten around my neck, as if she could sense my building stress.

“…elling timbeeerr –you better mov…”

She continued singing, shuffling around the area and nearly coming to touch my foot at one point but –thank goD –passing over it. Then the door was closed again, and I was able to breathe at last. We stayed in that position though, waiting until –at last –the door to the actual room itself was slammed shut.

Afterwards, we spoke.

“Mama?”

“Hm.”

“Why are we in a closet?”

“Because it’s comfy.”

“Then why were we hiding from that lady?”

“Because she’s scary.”

“Then why…”

And the questions went on –and on –and on…

…

…

…

Stacie later called, giving us constant status reports on the house and its inhabitants. Soon she arrived with a box of pizza and some soda in which I disapprovingly accepted, claiming that soda at a young age was absolutely unacceptable. She ignored me of course, as did little Chloe herself. I ended up allowing it in the end. After this, Stacie guaranteed that she’d get everyone out of the house for the rest of the day. How you ask? I don’t know. I also don’t plan on finding out. Never doubt the will of Stacie is what’s heard around in these parts of Barden.

Once Stacie left, and magically(?) along with everyone else, the house was free to roam at last. Chloe immediately ran to the bathroom, pausing at the door as she jumped up and down and yelling at me to “hurry up”.

“For what?”

“I’m scared!”

Of course. I helped her onto the toilet, averting my eyes rightfully as she did her business. Why did I sign up for this again? Why isn’t it Stacie here instead of me?

“Mama! Let’s watch a movie!”

Oh yeah. “Mama”. _Eugh._

“Sure thing…sweetie.” I almost snorted at the end of the jokingly used nickname –but the way her smile seemed to just radiate after that certain term was used… _ugh…_

“Mulan!”

“No.”

“Pocahontas!”

“No.”

“Lion King!”

“No.”

“Would You Rather!”

“Yeesss…”

Shame on me? Psh, yeah. But c’mon! Chloe’s been begging me to watch this trash for a good month now. So why not?

…

…

…

“Chloe?”

No response. I peered down at her, allowing only the faintest of a smile to cross my lips. So watching “Would You Rather” may have been a pretty stupid idea. Not even ten minutes into the movie and I had been suddenly tackled, a shivering bundle snuggling close into the folds of my sweater. _Kick her off?_ was, yes, a considered though. But then again, it was kind of my fault. So yeah, I did maybe play on with it, smirking while wrapping an arm around her, stroking at her soft _soft_ hair soothingly while the shrieks of the movie continued to ring throughout the time.

Movie was pretty crappy in the end.

By the time I looked at my phone, struggling with one arms while the other was hopelessly trapped in an embrace by “ _thine grace”_ , it was around nine, nine-thirty. I wasn’t necessarily tired, but then at the same time if I got up, I risked the possibility of waking up the peaceful ange- _edeVIL_. Devil. Tots not angel. Ew, gross. (*denial*)

A great sigh was then heaved, and I wordlessly settled in for the night. _Not bad_ , supposed for a day that could have no doubt gone way worse. Chloe would wake up the same, and I would be able to totally shove this in her face. Everyone wins.

Before completely settling in, I –dare I do it –snapped a quick selfie of myself, grinning as I pointed to the sleeping toddler cuddled on my lap.

Wanted to make sure I had evidence to show Chloe this and all. Y’know, usual blackmail stuff and junk.

…

…

…

I woke up to boobs.

Highly, _highly_ disturbing factor to wake up to if I may quickly add.

“Hi Beca.”

And that was another thing. I felt a hand come underneath my chin, too groggy to really do anything, I allowed the hands to guide my vision upwards. Then Chloe’s –normal thank GOD –beaming grin came into sight.

“Did we have sex last night or something?”

I can see where she got the idea from though. For one thing, she was still sitting atop my lap – _straddling_ if you will and bringing on a now really heavy force that I’m just beginning to feel. Two, the only thing she’s wearing is a shirt and an underwear, the only thing she really needed when in kid-form.

Immediately nonetheless, I could feel a flush rise up my cheeks, burning its way across my face as she continued to smile. With speedy movements, I quickly shoved her off my lap with a hard push. She went tumbling on her back to the other side of the couch, only chuckling while slowly propping herself up.

“Morning to you too woman,” I grumbled out, looking away from her half naked form with a pout and instead directing my attention to the phone adjacent to my side. At once after entering the pass code, multiple snaps from the Bella-Bitches were notified, signifying a wild party had no doubt occurred over night.

“But seriously,” her voice rang out again, bringing only another grunt from me. “If we didn’t have sex last night…then what _did_ happen? I honestly can’t recall a single thing.”

“You really want to know?” I mused on, grinning faintly as I pulled up the selfie from the night before.

“Well _duh!_ This sense of amnesia is sort of freaking me out…”

Still grinning, I threw her the phone. She caught it, giving me a curious look before glancing at the screen.

 _One second_ –she was staring wide eyed at it, thousands of questions obviously written all over her expression. _Three seconds_ –there was a giant rush of wind, blowing across my face until…

*poof*

There, staring at me with that damn sparkling gaze.

“Mama!”

“Oh foR _FUCKSSAKE!”_

 


	3. The Deadpool and Spidee One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @captainpeachperfect @aca-esthetic @brittany-snodes   
> *whispers* Thanks

Lemme' tell ya' something.

Flying –is one of the most stressful things I’ve ever been subjected to do. And of course when I say flying, in actuality I mean swinging from building to building by a sheen set of cob webs being shot from the tips of my fingers (perty cool right?).

But, besides the regular concerns of stinging rain, getting struck by lightning, and…*shivers*…bug splatters –there comes to the light an even more stressful concept.

Some fucking ninja-bitch in a black and red spandex that refuses under all circumstances to just fuck the hell off.

"Oi! Sexy spidee guuurl~"

“Hey cutie!~”

“That ass is lookin’ fiiine today spidee~”

“Wanna’ go have sex some time sweetums?~”

By the way, she’s somehow managing to get all these statements to me while I’m in midair. How you ask? Try this –jumping from the roofs of each  _skyscraper_  (mind you, skyyyscraper) and adapting and matching to my up-and-down pace.

(Like,  _fuck_  those have got to be some strong thighs right?...whoa-ho-ho no no no nononono…)

So I tried to lose her, glancing over before making a sudden veer to the right –then left-then right again –then straight for a bit until making one last left. After that I gave a quick airborne 360 degree scan of the area around me before allowing myself a duck and roll to the ground.

“Hah,” I gave myself a mental pat on the back, shaking off my shoulders and popping a neck crack here and there. Then I gave a little bounce and began my stroll back to my apartment, making sure to take a quick turn right and into the grey lit alleyway. It was nighttime of course, pitch black for any regular person, but just at the faintest of the outlines of objects visible to me.

So I walked on in there, strolled really. It had been a fairly good day today –kicked a bit of bad guy butts over here, saved a bunch of hot chicks over there. Not too shabby for alls a day work. But then there came to thought (really, it happened like a good five minutes ago. Why would I  _not_  be thinking about it?) of that weird ninja lady. Ninja, y’know, as in there were totally a pair of double bladed swords on her back.

Kind of just occurring to me that she just may pose to be quite a potential threat, even despite the fact that her only form of attack was flirting.

…buuut –meh. I’ll worry about her tomorrow.

In the alleyway  I am, my usual routine of lifting up the metal blue dumpster and reaching under for my trustee leather backpack. Slinging it over my shoulder, I casually made my way to the public restroom which also happened to be located within the dark alleyway, even whistling a tune while creaking open the door. A quick peer around and the area was declared devoid of people, now going into one of the stalls and making sure to lock it shut before beginning  to strip off my clothes.

Sorry to disappoint you here, but yes, I do indeed have to change out from my suit and into casual clothes before going home. I’ve learned my mistake from trying to go through the window after my neighbor just across the building, Kommissar, had screamed after seeing “the spider” and immediately began snapping pics of me. So yeah, way to make everything less epic right?

I was just about naked as if now, undergarments being the only exception, when-- _fuck_ \-- the door unexpectedly opens.

 _It’s fine,_  was my first thought.  _Probably just some bum looking to use the restroom._

So I turned back around to facing the toilet with its seat down, backpack resting atop it while I shuffled through and began pulling out various pieces of clothing.

“Mmm-m. Look at dat booty.”

“Oh my fuCK –” I snapped around, instinctively grabbing at my bag and doing my best to use it cover my body. Luckily, beside the undergarments, I still had my mask on (habit to be honest), but what the hell!?  _Why_  the  _and_   _the_  who and  _whAT_  THE bloody bitTHIN’ BITCHIN BISCUITS!!?

“Damn girl.” She was crouching on top of the thin wood of the stalls door, balancing with her tiptoes as the door continuously wobbled with her weight.

“You. Is fine.”

“GeeET OUT!” I immediately shrieked, messily shooting out random shots of webs at her. “Get out get oUT get OUT!”

“OOoooo, feisty,” without even a moment of hesitation, two gleaming swords were produced, shining in the dim florescent light as the single sounds of “snip” “snap” “snip” were heard. My webs –sliced right in half.

Hand to sword fight it is.

…in my undergarments.

*sigh*

I lunged upwards, tossing the bag to the side and springing swiftly pass her, latching my hands and feet onto the ceiling. A single second passed before I was shooting towards her sitting figure, using the momentum of the ceiling to enhance my pounce and tackle. Then we were tumbling onto the cold tile floors, a flurry of punches and elbows dodged swiftly, then coming to have to quickly arch my back backwards, taking into the account the shining grey glint of her sword in slow motion as it passed over air where my torso had just been occupying. Kicks –blocked. Hits fruitless –to both of us mind you. Her blades were still swinging, each time used always near to getting a swipe of skin from me.

Fast and speedy, rushed and hasty. Panting, sweating droplets beginning to form. While  _she,_  on the other, hand looked just about the same as when we had started.

“Huh,” I was far across the bathroom area, fists up and ready while knees were constantly in a bobbing motion. She was on the other side of the room, leaning up against the doors exit with her arms crossed against her chest. “Yo spidee, yur pretty good gurl.”

“…thanks."

_Well_ _I'm not going to go ahead and be ru-_

"...and fucking hot as hell."

"Seriously?" I finally breathed out, swiping a thin layer of sweat of my nose before returning my gaze back to her. "Who the fuck are you?"

"M-m," she shook her head, giving a mere chuckle. "Sorry babe. You don't get a name unless I get a kiss."

And it was there, yes, my brain just happened to go into a short circuit, blanking to black. "W-well the same thing goes for me then!" I all but sputtered, face at once heating into a sweating mess.

"Oh?" Oh shit, was all I could sum up in the next five seconds because there no warning--a hand was slapped against the wall next to me, cracking the tiles with the amount of force taken. And fuck, I was actually fairly surprised at the lack of resistance I put when her body began closing in, brushing my bare back against the cold walls and bringing a shiver to my spine.

"No resistance I see?" I shivered again, because now I could feel her breath coming through the mask. Not only that though. I could feel it all. Breasts, toned torso, rippling abs.  _God she's really hot._

And oh my god I did not just think that. Wait-- _weren't we just fighting a couple minutes befo-_

Then her fingers were at my mask, pulling it up slowly and revealing a burn of cold to my lips. She stopped at my nose though, as if detecting some sort of silent warning heeded by all mask wearers. I did the same to her, rushed and sloppily though, reaching up and tugging up the sides to her nose and revealing a pair of grinning cherry lips.

"Woa-"

But I didn't finish. Or more specifically speaking, I couldn't finish. Her lips were on mine, and golly--beautiful oh god. She wasted no time at all, smartass I realized because it randomly just occurred to me that the type of kiss wasn't even specified beforehand--her jaw forcing mine open with a surprising amount of force and then she was swiping a tongue over my teeth. And I could've smiled and I could've laughed and I could've moaned if it weren't for the fact that I was making out with a completely random and not to mention utterly dangerous individual as if now.

Should I, um...stop?

Her hands were roaming, gloved fingers over skin, feeling up a tensed torso. A tensed torso--a naked. Tensed torso.

"Hey," I managed to breath out against her lips, soft plush warm lips. "Is...is the kiss over...yet?"

She smirked, I could feel the curve of her lip come upwards and ever thing.

"Maybe..."

Said, but not even at the slightest acknowledged since she was back at my lips, ravaging and biting at my lips, unfolding a sharp exhale of air from my nose. Her hands were everywhere, leather against my back, my jaw, my neck, my arms and god it felt so good and so perfect and so  _desirable_  and so  _pleasurable_  and so--

"Welp," cold air slapped me in the face, and suddenly she was standing at the door of the bathroom. "I'm Chloe!" she stated with a bow, then proceeding to pull down the fold of her mask and shoot me a thumbs up. "We should tots have sex some time!" Then the door was swung open. "I'll catch ya' later Beca!"

And she was gone.

Gone.

And she knew my name.

My. Fucking. Name.

And.

I was still in my underwear.

._.

…

…where the fuCK IS my BRA!?


	4. Too cute to be a criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (or the one where Beca’s a criminal and Chloe’s a sort-of-but-not-really damsel in distress. 1700-1800’s au)

 “Watch, fantasize, ogle in delight! As they twist, as they twirl, as they dazzle, as they shine –the best of the best-est you’ve ever come to see! The Masquerade, yes you heard me right, the Masquerade. First of its type, once in a life time opportunity. Folks, be the first to sign up and atten-”

She shut off the radio with snort, turning back to polishing the hilt of her pistol. Once finished, the weapon was slid in the pouch clipped atop around her thigh, dress ruffled down to cover at it as she grabbed at her purse and fastened her mask.

“Tonight we strike.”

...

She walked in with a casual stroll, shoulders completely free of tension and expression not giving away at any emotion of the sort. Beneath her glimmering dress laid a total of three different weapons, hidden away at the ankle of her heel was a sharpened set of throwing knives, and within her bunned hair (disguised as a pin) was a single poisoned dart. All this, furthermore including the trained hand-to-hand combat.

Ready, yes, she was. But –on the other hand…

“Care for this dance ma’am?”

“No tha-”

…perhaps not.

The woman had her jaw hanging open, sentence remaining unfinished since, _goodness_ , pure goddess-like beauty could only describe the creature standing before her. Scarlet locks that only seemed to shine underneath the chandeliers lights, an azure gaze that was just beaming with all the innocence of the world combined together –and when she smiled, amused at the her dumbfounded façade, it was enough to open a seam in the black heart of a thief long on her way to the damnance of hell.

Her mask represented a dove, white diamond-like jewels outlining the edges of the feathered disguise.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” was her simple reply hinted with the tune of a giggle, grabbing at the hands that had robbed countless and leading her to the open floor.

Clammy hands (clammy?) were entwined together, one on each other’s hip, the other on a shoulder. The music was then started, beginning with the soft strokes of a violinists’ skilled fingers and building slowly with the rise of piano chords being struck. They swayed at first, adjusting and melding into the rhythm of their partner and the other dancers surrounding as well. It was strange, from the criminal’s perspective that is. There were things she was supposed to be doing, actions she was supposedly supposed to be completing before sending the signal. She was their leader, and without the signal –there would be no raid. And without the raid, she’d have no satisfaction in robbing the rich…and giving to (hah) –herself and her men.

The song soon ended, and a relieved sigh was exhaled. Although it was a slow paced song, it still didn’t allow her to relieve the tension at her back. She gave a respectful bow to the woman, thanking her lightly for the dance before turning to walk away.

Preparations were needed to be made.

“OOOo I love this one!” and all of a sudden, she was being yanked back by her arm and back into the personal space of the mystery woman. “Come now darling, one more for the sake of a fair maiden in distress?”

In all honesty –how could she even stand to say no to a face of such purity?

“…fine,” grumbled low. She was of course well aware that her speech during the entire time spent with this woman was limited, hardly anything in the first place has even been said. That was (planned that is) what was to be kept at.

Speech however, wasn’t exactly the problem needed to be addressed at the moment. Because when suddenly you find yourself gliding across the slick floors of the room, twisting and twirling and spinning to your heart’s desire –smiling and laughing and chortling uncontrollably, well what is there to think of at the time? At some points she could feel the other woman’s breath on her cheek, and at other times she could hear the soothing hum as she sang along.

Said plainly, the dance went on.

And on.

And on.

Interrupted only for a minute to count, wine being the reason. It was drained from luxurious glass goblets, every drop, every drip taken in and buzzing the rationality of both mind-sets. They were then roaring with laughter and giggling until their stomachs were burning, hand in hand as they stumbled onto the dance floor once more. Blurry minds, hips swaying, dancing along with the many other drunken individuals around them. This was the prime hour of the masquerade, a time where formality was put to the side and freedom was replaced. The piano was improv, the violin substituted with a trumpet. Jazz, filling the ears of the two women as they danced – _my_ how they danced.

Bending and weaving into one another, legs nonstop and smiles never ending. They were in sync, remaining in sync for the rest of the night. And the dance just –went on. And on.

And on.

And on.

And _on…_

Until by the time both were completely worn out, faces flushed and breaths puffing out –the masquerade was over. The lights were dimming down, the musicians were packing their instruments, and she watched with her head low as her men passed by with sour glances, only the handful of her most trusted being the exception as they instead flashed her a wink.

She failed the raid. Distracted by the woo’s of a woman. –or did she…

“So what do people call you?”

 _I should be mad –right?_ And yet, she just couldn’t stop staring at this woman’s eyes. Gleaming almost knowingly through the shadows casted by her mask. How could she be angry at having a good time anyway?

“Evangeline.”

“Okay,” a pouting nod. “Now tell me–what’s your _real_ name?”

It’s still unexplained to this day at how she knew in the first place. “I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about…”

“Oh please darling,” the woman only laughed, reaching over and patting at her shoulder. “I can spot a lie from miles away.”

 “…why should I tell you first?”

“Because I initiated the conversation in the first place.”

“Well I didn’t ask for you to.”

“But you didn’t stop me from doing so.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be a Masquerade?”

“It’s over.”

“But is it?”

“Everyone’s left already dear. _Duh_ it is.” _Duh?_

A victorious grin was shot from one side, a pout from the other. Was she really going to tell this mysterious woman a name only known by a selected handful of her trusted people?

“…Beca.”

“Oh wonderful!” Beca winced, surprised at the slightest at the sudden shrill voice. “I’m Chloe, Chloe Beale. Pleasure to meet you Beca!”

Chloe’s hand, surprisingly not a single ring to be found, was stuck out. An obvious gesture of greeting waiting to be returned. Which was returned, along with a sigh and eye-roll.

“No come!” yanking the hand that had just entered her own and dragging the smaller woman with her. “We mustn’t waste a single moment!”

“W-wait what?” Beca cried out, having no other choice (that didn’t involve harm obviously) but to follow. “What are you doi-” Before she could tell what was going on, they were dashing up the marble stairs to the mansion, tripping through the vast halls until finally reaching a screeching stop at a room door.

“Are you up for a bit of games Miss _Beca_?”

Said in a tone like that – _how could I not be?_ And yet, the usually stoically prescribed chief found herself taking in a large gulp, using her free hand to scratch nervously at the back of her head.

“Yes?”

The door was opened, inside they walked. Hand in hand, dresses swishing side by side. Comfy would serve as the best description. A glowering fireplace lighting the entire room in an aroma of orange, king sized bed covered with silk-like comforters, a couch’s coated in animal fur, and wardrobes. Everywhere.

_Jackpot…_

**_But not_** –something Beca didn’t really come to realize. It did come to her attention through the obvious logic that, yes, this was no doubt the daughter of the filthy rich man to have hosted the Masquerade. Words weren’t needed to tell her that. However, what she didn’t come to apprehend was the evident smirk plastered across this so-called “maiden in distress”.

Victory on her account, ensnaring the rat between her slender caging fingers.

“You’re cute.” It was funny really, how two words could come to make such a resolved face just explode with redness.

“I am not!”

“Yes,” the door was shut with the back of her heel, echoing along with the sounds of a back being pushed against it. “You are.”

“Oh.” Now Beca was just a small little teeny tiny piece of putty, with her back against the wooden door, and the feeling of two fluttering hands skimming lightly at her collarbones. Flighting across them and then coming to traverse up her neck, rubbing at her adams apple as she gulped hard.

“Aww,” then Chloe was really pushing up to her, sliding her hands back down to clasp the straps of Beca’s dress and slide them excruciatingly slowly to the side. “Feeling a little anxious?”

“…”

Not that she couldn’t talk, it was more of that she was almost one hundred percent sure that if she was to talk, her voice would be trembling. No – _no!_ Feared by hundreds _–no thousands!_ Why was it that…this woman…putty –jelly –slab of raw fish…

It was her turn, her turn to reach up and cause some havoc in the situation perfectly arranged by the woman before her. _Damn_ , before Chloe could even realize what was happening, they were kissing. _A little faster than_ _expected_ –no matter though, she could handle this one.

 “…show you…who’s cute…” was muttered though a heated breath, a sharp pair of blue hardly seen as lips were sealed once more, hands roaming and creating lines of steam across both woman’s bodies. Gasping at the feeling of teeth biting down, almost smiling at the pressuring sense behind her –hands pushing into her back and pressing themselves closer.

“Turn around,” strange because, it was asked so sweetly. As if they both weren’t full on making out at the moment. Hazed mind however –Beca gladly twisted around, enjoying every move of Chloe’s body against hers. Drunken on wine and fuzz, smirking at the feeling of something coming to tie both her wrists together.

“What kind of game…” still smiling though, patience nonetheless shrinking to an extent.

“ _Shush –_ ” whispered right behind the skin to her ear. And maybe if it weren’t for the fact that Beca’s head all but rolled backwards, and her lip had to be bitten in order to hold in the throaty moan threatening to be released –she would have realized that the “clothe” being tied around her wrists was in actuality…metal. _Metal?_ Metal, then hands were sliding, massaging their way up her bare back. Upwards and soothing at the back of her nape, sliding across her shoulders and wrapping around her neck. Feeling at every stutter of breath with every sensitive touch before skimming slowly and slowly more up, easing and lofting through the sleek strands of hair until they were at the side of Beca’s face.

Mask –taken off without a hitch. Grinning –as she tightened the cuffs. Smiling –to the sound of a groan ripping through the stillness of the air.

Then she was pulling Beca back, guiding the stumbling mess to the couch and pushing her face first onto it. Cute –but an idiot nonetheless. A flustering mess as Chloe came to straddle her from the back, taking her sweet time as to grab the bottle of chloroform from the side of the couch and dab a couple of drops onto a napkin.

“You’re really hot,” she heard a muffled voice say through the fur covers. “Like, I really like you.”

“Oh do you?” screwing the cover back onto the bottle and sliding it back to its designated area. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, like most people are really aggressive and stuff. But you –you’re really nice.”

_Definitely the wine…_

It did make her hesitate for a moment, contemplating on what was just said to her.

Then she was sliding her front onto Beca’s back, purposefully using a hand to slide up the woman’s side with her, enjoying the shivers it brought. “I’m glad,” she whispered into her ear once fully up to the woman’s upper body, steadying the hand holding the napkin into position.

“Yeah, you’re also really puurrty…”

“Well thank you.”

“And I also like how you dancezz…”

“That’s nice.”

“I’m also a really baaad thief.”

“Oh are you?”

“YeAH, and I’ve robbed like, a whole bunch-a people.”

“That’s interesting.”

“And I waS gunna rob you and all…”

“Was?”

“Yeah, but –I kinda’ don’t want to. You’re too nice and preet-”

And it was here, the rambling was cut off. Because a cloth was then slid atop the woman’s mouth and nose, precise and exact. Not a sputter, not any struggle of any type. She just went limp, right beneath the weight of the redhead.

Silence for a few seconds until Chloe had heaved herself up, muttering a faint, “Really cute,” before standing straight and ruffling out her dress. Then she was humming a tune and gliding across the room, tidying up the area and collecting the fallen dress off the flooring. It was while doing this however when the distinct sound of “thump’s” became apparent –footsteps?

“Oh my god!” the woman –Beca. Very much awake and rubbing feverishly at her face. “You tried to knock me out!”

“...wait.” Chloe was on the far side of the room, still casually folding the younger womans dress. “How are you awake right now?”

“Oh please, I’ve had my fair share of people trying to get their grubby hands on me. _Seduction_ , though, was definitely not one of them.”

“Glad to be the first,” Chloe happily smiled, tucking the dress under her arm and reaching down to also grab the heels of the woman. “Lovely choice of weaponry by the way,” she pointed to the exposed armory wrapped onto Beca’s thighs. “And boobs, yeah definitely the boobs too.”

A high squeak was then emitted, followed by the unmistakable sound of some someone stumbling over and opening a drawer. Then with a few ruffling around, Beca was wearing a tank top and loose skirt up to her angles.

“You’re awful,” she grumbled as she looked herself down.

“Yeah yea, you can leave now.”

“Get out? Excuse me? Not gonna try and tackle me or something…”

“Nah. Since you, y’know, “outsmarted” me. I’ve also just realized that you’re _way_ too adorable to be locked up in confinement. So you can go.”

“Wow, you did all that…”

“M-hhm.”

“Oh. Okay well-”

“And drop the bracelet. My mother gave that to me.”

“…I don’t know what yo-”

“And the necklace.”

“…”

“And the earrings.”

“…yeah okay.” With the items dropped onto the bed, strange as the situation was, Beca was then walking to the balcony. Escape, but not really since there was nothing really to be escaping from.

“Oh, Beca!” Chloe called out, immediately bringing a halt to Beca’s walking.

“Yes?”

She was then walking towards her, throwing the other woman’s clothes onto her bed and exiting onto the balcony as well. Not even bothering for personal space (not that Beca really minded at this point), and gently wrapping an arm around her middle. She then took a moment to (at last) slip her mask off, leaning in close once more and grinning as she spoke just above blushing skin, lips barely brushing over.

“You’re welcome to visit me anytime sweetums.”


	5. Censorship fudging sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca’s luck (as we all know) pretty much sucks ass. So the day she finds herself magically transformed into a five year old and stranded in the rain doesn’t exactly surprise her as much as it should’ve. Luckily, an aiding stranger happens to pass by.   
> A stranger, that is, by the name of Chloe Beale.
> 
>  
> 
> (Cuz Beca as a wee babe is just pure love.)

One minute. One, single minute. A total of sixty seconds exact.

One minute--

\-- and Beca is rushing through the pouring rain, both hands held up to her forehead in order to provide some sense of coverage for her eyes. Fifty seconds, Beca is getting _struck_ by (what the fuck?!) –lightening (the fucking hell?!?). Forty seconds and Beca is tumbling and sliding onto the drenched asphalt, smoking and surprisingly still very much awake. Thirty seconds, Beca’s abruptly stopped just outside the curb of the sidewalk, still on the pavement of the road with her foot caught in the bars to a water drainage (but when have her feet been small enough to even fit in these narrow drains?). Twenty seconds and Beca is struggling to free her feet, pouring rain having no mercy to the visibility of incoming traffic. Fifteen seconds, Beca is praying to a god she never believed to exist, yelling and shouting for help. Five seconds, she’s looking the other way…

Two seconds, and a pressure is pulling underneath at her arms –and suddenly she’s flying, feeling the harsh brush of the car tug at her shirt (really big shirt…??) and watching it zoom just inches away from her toes.

(Where are her shoes?)

(Where are her paNTS??)

_Dip-shipping flip crackers._

_…_ what.

“Are you crazy?!”

Maybe, from her view of things going on. Realizing that you’ve just been struck by lightning can really do things to a person’s mind. Mentally effecting yes, physically –well of course. You’re bound to be burned or some shit like that. Like, where’s the sizzling hole right? Have the movies been lying to us all along?

“Hey.” Ah yes, the voice. Forgotten momentarily at the whole “just-got-hit-by-lightning-and-nearly-died-and-ship” gist (ship?). “Are you alright?”

At this point, our protagonist wasn’t entirely sure what was real and what was fake. For one thing, she wasn’t walking, but she was defiantly moving. Then she could see a brick wall to her side –underneath the shades to a restaurant apparently. But why, where –who was…why was it weirdly warm…

“Whad?” Her _voice--_ she immediately recoiled in shock, jerking her head back and bumping into something damp just behind her head. “Whad”, said with a squeak-ish tone, nasally, almost resembling to a flipping (what??) child.

“Alright now,” _who the flip –what the flIP—why can’t I flipping fudging fudge fudge fuDGE FUDGE-_ “Wanna’ tell me your name now?”

She raised her arms, her hands, to her line of vision. Tiny fingers, stubby _tiny_ fingers. Then she was ruffling through her short hair, feeling down her flat _flat_ chest. Obviously something wasn’t right here. First her voice, now her actual appearance. It also became apparent at this moment that she was also short. As in, shorter than normal.

(Plus, she was being carried bridal style by some random chick.)

(And was somehow _fitting_ in this woman’s arms?)

(WHAT.)

“Don’t be scared,” and suddenly, someone’s hands were brushing through her hair. “Well, I guess I’d be pretty scared if I’d almost been run over by a truck. But it’s tots all right now! You’re gonna be _just_ fine.”

One. Someone was touching her hair. Two. Someone was fudging carrying her. Three. The ability to curse was being rejected. But how was that even possible right? How was any of this even possible??

?

“Legg’o!” She’d have to worry about the squeak-ish voice later because for now, her first and foremost objective was to get the fudging heck away from this random coddling lady. “Lemm’e go woman!”

“Woah ther-”

Nope. Beca wasn’t even going to wait for a response of any type. No way in hay. Self defense 101 was activated and Beca was punching and kicking out at the woman, sinking her fist into the hard abdomen of the women (yeesh) yet effectively brining out a breathly “oof” from her. Then her feet were on the ground, and she was brushing away at the hands coming to grasp her shoulder and running. Just, fudging (fuDGE--) running.

 _“Wait!”_ lost in the whistling of her ears as she took off into the rain, legs automatically initiating panic-mode and pumping into action. Where was she going? Don’t know, not really thought of. Wasn’t she supposed to be going somewhere? Car maybe? Or was it to a home? Still not perceived –not really cared in an overall sense. Because there was no stopping it. Beca was scared. And when Beca was scared, there’s really only one thing _to_ be done.

Fudging run for it.

(Fudge? FuDGE)

Nonetheless, as much as running may have appealed to Beca’s deduction of the situation, it may not have been the most appropriate choice of actions. The factors around her to begin with –wet sidewalk, bare feet, and newly uncoordinated limbs –proved to be the first problem. “Fudge”, being the only thing squeaked out as the heel of her foot gave a sudden slip, tossing her face first onto the cement and rolling her a couple of feet forward before finally coming to stop on her back. The rain continued, dropping heavily onto her face in an almost taunting manner.

“Oh gosh!” and the rain was then stopped. The face of the woman was looming over her, a shocking pair of blue eyes coming closer as she kneeled down beside our fallen protagonist. “Oh gosh,” she repeated, this time more concerned than panicked. There would be scrapes no doubt, not to mention bruises.

But who gives a fudge right? –Beca still had no idea what to do. An innocent child as she looked, a clueless lady as she thought.

Should she get up? _Yes_ , she should. And she did, or at least she tried. It seemed as though the nearly acquired body of hers was a bit more sensitive than her previous, yelping at the sudden throb on her skinned knee.

“Ohhh no you don’t missy,” and immediately she was being lifted again-- _fudge fudge fudge_ because her arms were all but shaking, and her eyes were all but tearing up. This wasn’t right. Beca Mitchell doesn’t cry. Not even when her three-year devoted boyfriend broke up with her. Or when her parents divorced in the middle of her high school years. Or even when her boss called her a “fag” and fired her on the spot. So why, _why_ in heavens name—why does she feel like her chest is about to burst and throat is about to catch on fire? Why was she now sobbing endlessly into this random hot chick’s sodden shirt, allowing the spoken reassuring words to give her some sense of comfort?

Easy. Beca Mitchell was still scared. And as much as twenty-two year old Beca would have preferred her normal strategy of running the _fudge_ away, five year old Beca had a different mindset on what “normal” meant.

…

(Did she just get kidnapped?)

…

(Not that she would have minded to be honest…)

…

…

“Alright then!” Beca was now seated on a chair in “Chloe’s” apartment. Name’s exchanged only after calming the crying child and seeking shelter from the rain in her car. “Let’s take a look at those boo boo’s now, huh?”

Boo boo’s. No way in hay.

“Noe.”

Yes. For those looking for clarification, Beca was indeed pulling the “stubborn card”. She twisted her body to the side, hiding the scraped knee from the older woman’s view. From Beca’s view on things, Chloe was coddling her. Absolutely unacceptable. She could obviously shake this little scrape off easily. No need to clean it or anything with the stinging disinfectant or anything. (Because she totally was _not_ under any circumstances weeping her heart out only a couple hours ago.)

“Beca,” even with her arms crossed and frown clear, Beca was still painfully aware at the stern gaze of the other woman’s gaze. “We’ve got to make sure it don’t get infected. Bad things can happen if they do.”

“Doe.”

Fabulous. Now her voice was becoming nasally again.

“Beca, don’t make me say it again.”

“ _You’re_ not my mom,” was the only thing grumbled back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t sass me young lady.”

“Well you’re not.”

“Then where _is_ your mother then? And your father if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Mom’s in Texas, Dad’s on vacation with step-monster in New York.”

“…”

“…I’m hungry.”

“You mean they left you?! In the rain and –and alone and-”

“Nah, it’s cool.” A basket of fruits was spotted in the middle of the table. “I mean yeah they divorced and all, but I can easily visit them whenever I want to.”

“But,” spluttering out her words in disbelief. “But how? You’re just a kid…”

“Oh this?” Beca was now reaching over casually while motioning to her whole body, taking advantage of the confused woman’s mind and grabbing at a banana. “Naw this is just temporary. I got, like, struck by lightning or something. Now --“poof”, messed up version of Pinocchio.”

“You –wait what?”

“I know right.” She slowly began peeling open the banana, biting off a big chunk while allowing Chloe to take in the information. “Pretty crashzy.”

“…*stares*…”

“…*continues eating banana*…”

“What the hell?”

“I know right?” she tossed the banana peel onto the table. “And check out this censorship!”

“Wha-”

“FuGDE! Fugde! Seriously, this like, cray. I can’t curse at all!”

“Um…”

“Fugding fudge crackers! Fagde fugde Hoover Dam! Sink to the deepest pits of hay and suck dippin’ dots!”

“…alright then.”

“Crazy ship right?”

…

“Sure.” She was nodding, looking up briefly and mouthing a quick “why not” before getting out the first aid kit once more. “Well older or not –those cuts aren’t going to be cleaned by themselves.”

“No.”

“Beca…”

“…will it hurt?”

Chloe, at this stage, could hardly suppress the typical “aww” at the face little Beca was giving her. Of course she had no idea what this child _really_ looked like, not to mention if the story was even real in the first place (fairly believable though right?). She _was_ cute though. A pout was stuck out, along with a fierce glare with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Without a doubt –this was one hell of a _lovable badass_.

(Oxymoron’s rule.)

“Only a little,” Chloe calmly answered, bending down and taking out a swab of cotton while pouring a couple drops of alcohol onto it. At once Beca’s body was tensed, and her arms were squeezed tighter to her body as she begrudgingly scooted back to fully face the woman again. Seeing this, Chloe only raised an eyebrow and (with only the smallest of a smirk), held out her hand to the pouting “child”.

“Would you like to hold my hand?”

“Psh,” Beca only looked away, muttering something before looking back. “Don’ care.”

“Alright,” Chloe hummed, focusing her attention back to the bloody knee. “I’ll just keep my hand right here then,” saying this while placing one of her hands on the edge of Beca’s chair.

Careful, cautious as she gently dabbed at the surface of the abrasion. Almost instantly her free hand was grabbed, tiny fingers coming to seize hers tightly. With every swab came a tighter pressure, Chloe only returning it as she continued the task at hand. Only when she was done dabbing at it she stopped, using a wet clothe soaked with soap and water to clean the dirt and then once more applying disinfectant to it.

“All good?” Chloe asked, looking up while wrapping gauze around the area.

“Yup,” came the tense response. Beca’s eyes slowly came to open, her hand however not leaving the grip of Chloe. (Not because she felt extra comforted or anything. Tots not…)

Once the bandage was completely wrapped, Chloe (sadly) asked as politely as possible if she may “have her hand back” in which Beca (horrified) immediately shoved back while shouting a quick “OMG LIKE YEAH WHATEVS! I WASN’T LIKE –I WASN’T…” –soon proceeding to enter into a quiet self loathing lapse while Chloe only chuckled.

“You like taco’s?”

“Fudge YES.”

And thus, tacos were prepared. During this series of cooking is when Chloe decided to ask our young Beca about her life. Her –mind you –real life. Beca (why the hay not and all?), gladly responded. Internship, music, soon to be future producer. No boyfriend, looking for a girlfriend, working side jobs as a DJ in nearby clubs. Chloe, throughout this entire explanation, was only a tad bit weirded out. Not because hearing information like this being spoken out from the mouth of a five year old was only slightly disturbing…(yeah that was the reason why).

“So what about you?”

The food was done, balanced in both hands as Chloe came to place one in front of Beca and the other on her own seat next to her. “Me?” she quickly tossed the leftover banana peel into the trash before sitting down. “Elementary school teacher. Love those little kiddies. Also probably the reason why I pretty much freaked the fuu- _heck_ out when I saw you. And when I’m not doing that, part time at a fitness center.”

“Did you jusht censhor yourshelf for me-sh?” chewing messily while peering up almost accusingly at her.

“…habit,” Chloe immediately responded, picking up her taco and digging in to avoid further embarrassment.

“Mmhmm…”

Shortly they both finished, Beca doing her best to help out with cleaning while Chloe pretty much did everything. A moment of silence passed after they were finished, and Beca was nearly slapped after stating that she had better “hurry home” whilst walking casually towards the door. At once she was stopped and scolded (like a flippin’ child!) as to why that was one of the worst ideas a person’s ever come up with and why she was an idiot and why she blah blah blah blah…

You get the point.

So now, Beca was lying on a couch. After taking a shower and being given a large shirt to wear an underwear that had apparently belonged to Chloe’s little cousin, she was ready for bed. A fluffy blanket snuggled up to her chin, a soft pillow behind her head, and a (though not insisted) small nightlight to her left.

So why is it that Beca couldn’t close her gosh darn eyes? Was it the stress of “will I ever return to my normal self?” Or was it that she simply just _wasn’t_ tired?

CRACK -- _BOOM!_

Wrong on both assumptions. Beca was scared. Again. But this time, there was nowhere to run. The storm was pounding heavily at the window, coming down even heavier than earlier in the evening.

“Beca?”

So yes, this is why she found herself rushing to a certain redhead’s bedroom door. There was the usual contemplation at first, but when it came to the entire apartment rumbling after every flash of lightning –nope. Child-Beca ain’t dealing with that ship.

This is why Chloe was suddenly startled awake at the feeling of a small body being pressed against her back. Sitting up onto her elbow and turning over, lifting the blanket to find a guilty eyed Beca staring innocently up at her.

(Who can ever say no to a face like that in the first place?)

Chloe only proceeded to lay the blanket back down, this time facing Beca’s side as she lied down. At first there was nothing, only an uptight lump refusing to give the smallest of a twitch. But when the next strike of light was projected from the blinds of the window, and the roar of thunder all but filled the room, there was a shivering bundle scooting frantically up to Chloe’s stomach. _Cute_ , because as badass Beca may wish to label herself as –

There was no way in – _hay_ –Chloe would let her live this down.

Oh yes. Once they figured out Beca’s whole “condition” out, it was without a doubt that they were going to become _fast_ friends. For now though, Chloe would play her part with a warm smile. Console, provided with a soothing arm and snuggling demeanor.

Then they were asleep.

(What an interesting way to introduce yourself to someone…)

…

(Effective nevertheless…)

…

…

“Hi.”

Beca was awake.

“Hi.”

Beca wasn’t in her bed.

“Did you sleep well?”

Beca was being cuddled in the arms of an stranger –no –Chloe. The _hot_ stranger.

“Yeah. Pretty good.”

Beca was twenty two again. (How? The fuck am I supposed to know?)

“OHGOSH!”

Now Beca was scrambling backwards, pushing away and out of the woman’s arms and tumbling off the bed.

“Woah!” Chloe was laughing, slowly sitting up and peering half interestedly down at Beca’s fallen figure while stretching out her arms. “You alright down there?”

“UH…YEAH. FINE. TOTALLY FINE.”

“Kay,” she yawned, giving a final stretch before slipping off the bed and groggily making her way to the bathroom. She paused only for a moment to look Beca’s sprawled position up and done, nodding and muttering a quick “oh she’s hot” before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

Beca didn’t move. Nope, she didn’t dare to move.

“Can you make breakfast?”a sweet voice soon called from the bathroom as the shower was started. This is, obviously, what got Beca up, startled and snapping her head to the door.

“Suuure…”

“Thanks!”

“…”

So Beca sat herself up, flushing to the root at her realization of no pants and rushing her way to Chloe’s wardrobe.

“I’m taking a pair of your pants!”

“Yeah go ahead! And take an underwear too!”

 _Oh for god’s sake…_ But she did, shimmying in and out into both garments. Still blushing hard as she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. _Breakfast, what to make for breakfast…_

Coffee.

Eggs.

Maybe pancakes?

…

…

Wait.

…

_(Wait.)_

_(What?)_

_What._

_WHAT._

_WHHAT._

No one knows Beca.


	6. Typical Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (In which Beca’s the tooth fairy, and Chloe is pretty much Chloe.)

Santa isn’t real.

Narcissus and Echo are all but a myth.

Fairies don’t exist.

A certain belief, a certain contemplation Chloe had always come to stubbornly reject throughout her young years. Her guardians at first, when coming into the realization of this particular “problem”, thought nothing of it. Just the late blooming of maturity for their sweet little girl was assumed with every pout supposed, and every refusal to listen.

But the years went on, and sooner or later a twenty year old Chloe was entering, the fables never dispersed. The idea itself was absolute ludicrous to begin with, yes, everyone could see that. Yet, despite it all, Chloe was without a doubt set on the fact that they were all real. Not a figment of her imagination, and never to be forgotten on days of their designated celebrated festivities.

“Chloe dear? Don’t you think you’re getting a little old for theses childish-”

“Mom!”

“Okay okay, just thought I’d try.”

Real proof however, as in, evidence not relating to Google searched conspiracy theories, were not to be found. Found –that is –until a certain day. Her twenty-third birthday, to be exact. The birthday in which she had decided, as a responsible citizen, to get filthy drunk with her fellow college pals.

It ended with a ten minute bar brawl and Chloe losing a tooth.

The next day, Chloe visited her local dentist and had the missing space replaced with a fake tooth.

Which left Chloe with an extra tooth.

An extra tooth.

Extra tooth.

Tooth.

Tooth…fairy.

(*screamz*)

 “Todays the day Bree!”

“M-hm.”

“Oh I’ll have to make sure to get ready for her! –oop. Or him. Not being sexist here.”

“M-hm.”

“Eek I’m so excited! C’mon, help me open all the windows will you?”

“M-m.”

“…ave to also make sure to coat the tooth in a good layer of sugar plum dust. Do we have any? Shit, I’ll have to go buy some. Or maybe I can improvise…”

“Mmm.”

“Brown sugar? Nah, not sparkly enough. A mixture of regular sugar and sprinkles _might_ do it. What do you think Bree?”

“Welp I’ve gotta go Chloe. Stacie invited me over to her place tonight so chow~!”

The slam of the door was shortly heard afterwards, Chloe hardly managing to throw out a quick “well goodnight!” before the blonde rushed out. Which was overall alright with Chloe.

Preparations had to be made anyway.

…

…

…

 “La da da, la da doo, la da dee~”

This is –for lack of a better phrase –not at all to what she imagined.

Not even the smallest of a creak was heard as her toes connected with the soft carpet of the apartment, nearing closer to the bathroom. The door was already open, allowing a ray of light to shine outwards across the dark room.

“Humdadee ~ oh every little thing I do ~ never seems enough for you ~ you don’t wanna lose him agai- oops.”

She didn’t even wince at the sound of a glass shattering within. Curiosity was almost burning its way onto the floor through her slowly taken steps, reaching a hand out to push lightly at the door.

“Shit shit how do you work these unnaturally made human junk for goDS sAKe I am so gunna get fired no-”

Breath held in (not like she’s been totally dreaming of this moment for her entire life or anything) –she fully pushed open the door.

(Because why would a thief be singing in her bathroom, right?)

“Hello?”

The person, female, was crouching with her back to Chloe. Tensed as she shot from the ground, not turning around. Peering down, Chloe could see the remnants of her glass toothbrush holder.

“HeLLO.”

“Um…”

“UM.”

“Who are you?”

“Who ARE YOU.”

“Are you-”

“ARE YOUUOOOFFFFF-”

It was all arms and legs after that, a series of curses spit from the strangers mouth as she twirled and tumbled backwards (it does take skill) into the bathtub, back evidently pulling at the curtain and tangling around her body as she thrashed around.

“Whoa! Hey, calm down mi-”

“…*animalistic screAMING*…”

“Miss! Miss you need to stop panicking so I can-”

“Help! HELP! She’s gunna kILL me! Requesting backup god daMN where’s my communicator –AIII!”

**\--TEN MINUTES LATER--**

“So let me get this straight.”

“Yes?”

“You’re a fairy.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re a tooth fairy.”

(Notice how it’s not a question.)

“Maybe~”

“You’re my tooth fairy?”

“Jeez woman, how old _are_ you?”

“Oh that’s beside the point. But, oh my gosh –this is so exciting!”

“Yes, _so_ exciting.”

“…even got the wings and pixie-looking dust and…”

As the situation stood, the “magical” home intruder was still lying in the bathtub, wrapped completely from head to toes burrito style with the shower curtain. Chloe was sitting atop the drawn down toilet seat, providing “moral support” in the form of a pacifying interrogation.

(Pacifying interrogation)

(Hah!)

“So how do the wings work?”

“Lady, can you like, get me out of here please?”

“Yes yes of course but –how do the wings work?”

“Well,” she angrily began fluffing out the white feathered wings. “I guess ya’ just flap’em!”

“That’s it?”

“They’re attached onto my back woman! What did you want me to say?”

“Okay,” still beaming with undying excitement that the unknown woman just had to scoff on. “What about the fairy dust everywhere? What’s up with that? Is it just for show or is there an actual purpose behind it.”

“I use it to make my potential abductees sneeze.”

“…wait reall-…*sneezes*…”

“Told’jya.”

“…*gasps in exhilaration*…”

“…*totally lying*…(it’s for show). Hey can you get me out of here now?”

“Oh but do I _have_ to?”

“Um, _yes.”_

“…”

“Lady!”

“It’s Chloe actually.”

“Ugh –Chloe?”

“Yes~”

“Please?”

“Hmf, fine.”

Here Chloe begrudgingly got up from her seat, going over to the bathroom cabinet’s supplies and rummaging around, pulling out a pair of scissors a few moments after. She walked over to the edge of the bathtub and kneeled down, in which the woman –wait. Woman? As in… _what’s her name again?_

“Hold it,” she pulled the scissors away and squinted down at her. “What’s your name first?”

“Pickle Perry Pinkery the 3rd,” she answered back without a second of hesitation. “Now get me out of here already!”

“You’re so lying.”

“I am not…” but the grin gave it all way, and Chloe only raised an expectant eyebrow. _Waiting…_

“It’s Beca.”

“Lovely to meet you Beca.”

“Charmed.”

Once the curtain was cut open, Beca was off. Not in the –hm –Tinker Bell fashion however. Flying upwards and in circles, thanking her savior over and over? Nope. In fact, the only magical action she _did_ perform was throwing a bit of rainbow dust into Chloe’s face before making a run for it.

“Oh you sneakie little-”

“Ne he he ha HA!”

“Oh wait a sec –hey wait!”

Surprisingly, Beca did wait. More out of amusement as she balanced herself on the sill of the open window.

“What up.”

“You didn’t even get my tooth…”

“…really?”

“Or a _pictuRE_!” she finished with an evil cackle, swiping out her phone from her back pocket and taking aim.

“Woah –hey. LADY, lady. Take it easy now. Just –don’t fuckiNG SHO-”

*click*

“…”

“…oh.”

“…”

“Oh you’re loosing your…um…glow.”

“…”

“…and there goes the sparkle dust…”

“…*thump*…”

“And the wings.”

“…I’m going to kill you.”

“…oops?” she offered with a weak grin.

“There goes my life. No job, no house, no food, no life, no nothing.”

“I’ll go set up the guest bedroom.”

“And make me some tacos.”

“Got it.”

“Also…”

“Hm?” Chloe paused, looking back at her. It was scary how regular she looked now, still the same figure, just more –human.

“Thanks I guess,” she said without making eye contact, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Being a tooth fairy was actually really, really boring.”

“Oh?”

“An eternity of collecting teeth.” She shrugged. “You tell me.”

“Huh,” Chloe smiled, tilting her head to the side. “I guess I never really thought of it like that.”

“Yeup.”

“Hmm.”

“Okay go make me my tacos.”

“Yap, yeah. On it.”

**Author's Note:**

> plasticface.tumblr.com/
> 
> ^3^


End file.
